2013.05.09 - Father And Son
It's been a very intense few days for Howard Stark. The world moves fast. It's hard for people who are in it day-to-day to keep up, let alone someone who has been out of the game for over twenty years. Fortunately for him, Howard's a genius. He was already ahead of his time by at least ten years, so that makes getting up to speed a titch easier. Still, it's all quite overwhelming. And when things overwhelm him, he does what Tony does - he works. Howard's currently on a medical restraint bed, though only one foot and hand is secured - just enough to keep him still. He's wearing medical scrubs and there's a rather disturbing amount of blood soaked into it. Disturbing of course, until you realize that bleeding at all is just part of the LMD's camoflauge and is not indicative of actual damage. He's currently got a cable inserted into his throat through a messy incision (hey, he's an engineer, not a doctor) and is working with the interface with bloody fingers that scrolls lines and lines of code. Over the speakers, Sinatra's timeless voice sings from the 1950s. Pennies from Heaven, currently. Tony Stark has had a busy few days. Stopping maniacs from tearing up Greenwich Village, meeting the spirit of the 20th century, running the company and everything else. Although he's checking in on his dad day to day, it's been about a day and a half. When he peeks in on his dad he gasps, "Dad!" he says, reflexively instead of Howard, and he rushes to help. "Christ almighty, what are you doing?!" he says, trying to get things squared away. He's dressed casually which means the arc reactor is visibly glowing in his chest. Howard is in the zone, so it takes a few seconds for him to clue in to Tony's presence. "It's all right, all right. Relax, Tony. I'm just futzing with things." His voice sounds strange and slightly robotic, with a weird echo that is half accented British, half American. "The accent is driving me crazy." He seems to have picked up Tony's interface quite quickly. A glance at the screen and Tony will be able to sort out that he's reprogramming his voicebox. Tony Stark pauses, looks over at the code, "Umm..want some help? I can code while you can futz?" he puts down the boxes and bags he was carrying and yanks up his sleeves, ready to work. "No, no. I'm just about done here. Just need to initalize this new code." Howard makes a few motions and he suddenly tenses as the data transfers. "God. I'm not usually inside this thing when I'm making adjustments. It's really uncomfortable. Oh, hey." He still doesn't sound like the father Tony remembers, but the upper crust British accent has disappeared. He releases the restraints on himself and disengages the cable from his neck. It brings a bit of gore with it. He grabs up a cloth to swab it up. "Now that I can, we should talk." Tony Stark crosses his arms and leans against a wall and nods, "Yeah, we probably should." he looks a bit skeptical as his dad was never a 'talker'. "What's on your mind, Howard?" Howard shrugs out of the blood-soaked scrubs, gives himself a quick wipe-down, applies a bandage to his neck and slips on a button-up and a pair of slacks. That done, he gives Tony a /look/. Despite the changed face, it's a 'you crashed the Mercedes' expression, or 'you snuck out and drank while underage' expression. He walks over to a workbench, and picks up a stack of magazines. Said magazines are then tossed across another table in front of Tony. Iron Man on every cover. Once the magazines are out of his hands, his arms fold across his chest. If he had glasses on, he'd be looking over the top of them at Tony. Tony Stark shrugs, "Yeah, that's what I do. I'm Iron Man. I founded the Avengers. I've saved the world I don't know how many times, and ever since my stay at the Perisian Hilton, I've also shut down the weapons division. Stark continues to be successful and branching out in virtually every market that exists." "You're hot-dogging in a metal suit instead of focusing on the legacy I worked my entire life to build for you. This company took every second of my time when it was mine. How do you have time to focus on the company when you're running around, what? Shooting laser beams out of your ass at aliens?" Howard sounds more like himself with the accent purged from his system, though the occasional word slips up. He /is/ a prototype. Tony Stark narrows his eyes, "I've saved the world, dad. I don't know how many times. I focus on this company with everything I do. Iron Man is SYNONYMOUS with Stark. Shares went up three HUNDRED percent when I announced I was Iron Man. The fact that I do what I do? It makes this company bigger /every/ day. The technology I built for the suits? It's filtering down into the lives of every day people." he holds up a finger, "Wait here." he leaves and returns in moments with another stack of magazines and counter shuffles them in front of his dad. Time's Man of the Year. Covers on Newsweek, and every other major serious news publication, on how fundamental Iron Man is to the world now. "I'm continuing your legacy in ways you can't imagine." "So you're going to stand there and tell me this is all for the greater good, and not for the good of your ego? Completely altruistic on your part. Nothing about making yourself a hero?" Howard only spares the faintest glance down at the stack of magazines. "You put yourself in danger, voluntarily and often. You've made yourself a target. Did you ever stop to think what would happen to the company if something happened to /you/?" Tony Stark shrugs and blinks, "Well, I'd lie if I said I didn't enjoy the perks of being Iron Man..but it's only an extension of what I had before." he sighs, "Do you think for one second I didn't inherit your pentient for planning for every contingency for every situation? Really?" "You don't have any children. You don't have someone to pass this company down to, someone you mentored yourself to make sure the company's integrity and vision is maintained. There's just /you/, Tony. And you're out there, jetting through the sky with an arc reactor in your chest." Maybe it's because Howard's less intimidating as someone who looks physically younger than Howard, but more of the fatherly concern shines through than it did when he was in his own body. He's angry because he's worried, not because he disapproves. Tony Stark shakes his head, "That's where you're wrong. I do have someone, someone I've been grooming for years to take this company if anything ever happens to me and they're scrupulous, honest, and fair. They can't be bought, bribed, or cajoled. If something happens to me, dad, the company could possibly be in /better/ hands than mine." Howard steps up in front of Tony and sets hands on his shoulders. "I've been reading up on what you've been up to. If I'd been around through half of it, you would have given me a heart attack." He looks down at the glowing arc reactor in his son's chest. "You found my trail of breadrcumbs." And then he lets out a long breath and drops back, hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I hope you know that I would have dismantled the weapons division, too. I probably would have done it sooner than you did as well, but I understand the shareholder pressures. I read up on my own legacy. War profiteer gets tossed around." He waves a hand. "People these days don't understand what it was like. I was making weapons to fight the Nazis, the Russians, HYDRA." Tony Stark nods, "I know, dad. I stopped it when I saw we were getting double dealt. Our weapons were showing up on the black market. I'm still trying to get it all back, but..just decided to expand the sope of the mission as well. I'm with good people, and we're still fighting the fight you picked up. Steve's still Steve, and you know Natasha. You haven't met Bruce or Thor yet, but you'll see..I'm in good company. You're in good company." "That thing in your chest, that's what I wanted Stark's legacy to be. Clean energy." Howard leans back against a work bench and takes in a long breath. "So what do I do now? I feel like a relic." Tony Stark smiles, "Work with your son, not against him..let's figure out ways to change the world, because /that's/ what we Starks do." he leans in, "Besides? This whole building?" he taps his chest, "Running on a slightly larger version of this, but not much. I'm doing it as a practical test. We've been off the city grid for six months." Howard's eyebrows arch. Interest, but he's a buisnessman with a skilled poker face. Never let 'em show you're impressed. "A little bit later than I'd hope you'd sort it out, but better late than never." He does however, smile ever so slightly at the end of that. "I suppose the first thing to figure out is who we tell people I am." Tony Stark thinks on this, and the slightest quirk of a smile curls his face. He's learned his dad's lessons far too well. "Well, I've been thinking about that." he pauses, "How'd you like to get back to work?" Howard Stark quirks a small grin. "Well, that was the plan. The one advantage of an LMD body is I don't have the irritations of arthritis and shortness of breath to slow me down. Frankly, I feel pretty damned good for being a robot." Tony Stark nods, "I kinda figured..Look, dad, if we can't get you into a body that looks like yours I at least want to transfer you into a body that looks like that but a current LMD. I know you're against it, but no one has to know, do they?" "To what end? Tony, the advantage of this LMD is that it's a prototype. No upgrade paths have been closed off. Nothing's been hard-coded in to make it impossible. There's nothing to circumvent. We'd have to build another LMD from scratch to create one with the same upgrade and repair capabilites of this one." Howard fingers through his hair and makes a bit of a face. "LMDs aren't built to last. There's no danger to the pilot if they're destroyed if they're used as decoys, so unless the project took a wildly different path after I...temporarily retired, they continued developing that way. New doesn't equal better." Tony Stark rubs his chin, frustrated, "So what do we do then? It doesn't seem right with you running around in yesterday's technology." "What did I just say, son? No upgrade paths have been closed off?" Howard sets a hand on Tony's shoulder and smiles a bit slyly. "That means there's a lot we can do to fix me up. Besides, I've been through the datalogs for my transfer. I don't know if I can duplicate my transfer. Bastian Long was a cyberneticist. His specialty was the mind link interface with the LMD. Seems like he sorted out something I didn't." That's rather grudgingly admitted. Tony Stark hmms at that, "Sounds like our first order business is to upgrade your vital systems. It's twenty year old technology, and we can probably do better with more." he taps his chest, "We'll put one of these in you and you'll be fit as a fiddle for quite sometime. I can go over Long's notes, see if we can expand your neuro network." Howard rocks back a step and arches one eyebrow. "Now, let's not go nuts here. There's a lot of upgrades I don't need. I'd rather not get wiped out by a glitch or if I get mugged, but I don't need the ability to bench press a Chevy. And I don't want you to touch my brain. Make sure it runs smoothly, yes. But if you start messing around with it too much, I might lose myself. And I just got myself back, thanks." Tony Stark nods, "Right." Tony Stark nods, "Right." and then rubs the back of his head, "So we'll upgrade what we need, and we'll put you in charge of R&D. Not VP, but the head lab rat. Won't cause too much of a shake up, gives you your own income, and gets you in touch with current tech. Sound good?" Howard considers that for a moment and purses his lips. "Which leads us back to, who the hell do we tell people I am?" And then, rather wryly, "Technically, this entire place is my own income. But I know if I ask for something, you'll give it to me, so I'm willing to pass on the technicalities." That was a joke. He told a joke. Not unheard of, of course. But rare at least to Tony and not a shareholder or the press. Tony Stark shrugs, "We tell people you are whoever you want to be. I can pull the strings to get you birth certificate, social security card, license, passport. Anything you might need. All you have to do is pick a name and a birthdate." he says matter of factly, "It's not like we don't still have contacts in the state department that don't ask questions when we need something." "I still want to be a Stark. Maybe we can pass me off as one of Bess' relations." Howard's cousin. Aunt Bess, as Tony called her, even though she wasn't his father's sister. "She has the security clearance to know about the LMDs, or at least close to it. Last I heard she was still doing military R&D." Of course, he forgets that Bess is in her 70s by now and long since retired. Tony Stark laughs, "Yeah, but she's retired now. Okay, so you're going to be a Stark. How about George Stark, cousin to the King?" "Why can't I just be Howard? Named after myself. You were almost Howard Junior, you know? But your mother insisted on Anthony." Howard starts to smile, but it hitches suddenly on the mention of Maria. That's still a fairly fresh wound, even if she's been dead for decades. Tony Stark sees that wound and reaches out, putting a hand on dad's shoulder. "Yeah. Let's make you Howard Stark all over again. Now all we gotta do is figure out your birthday." a beat pause, "Mom never got over losing you, you know. There was never anyone else after you went away." "No one else that she told you about, anyway. Tony, your mother and I hadn't been close for years before..." Howard shakes his head. "We stayed together for appearances. When you were away at school, we pretty much led separate lives. We only came together for charity dinners and product launches." Which doesn't make things sting any less for him, but. "I know every kid likes to imagine their parents had a love story, but you and I are too much alike in some ways." Tony Stark is the one who looks wounded now. "Don't give me that look, Tony. You're a grown man. You know there's no such thing as fairytales. You forget, I've been reading up on you." Howard points towards the magazines. It's not a judgment, rather, matter-of-fact. Tony Stark nods, "I know, but that's me..that's not you and mom.." he sighs, "I guess there isn't anything real, is there? I've been doing it right all along." "We were in love, once. But people grow apart. It's not like the whole thing was a sham. She got me to settle down when no one else could." Howard shakes his head slowly. "And there was no bitterness when we separated. We stayed friends. We still cared about each other, and about you." Tony Stark shrugs, "I guess it doesn't matter now. I believed it then, so it must be true." he hmmms. "Let's..let's work on something, ok? Let's get something accommplished here." trying desperately to change the topic. "I, uh, had JARVIS scan you for size. Brought you some new clothes. Thought you might like a couple of new suits and outfits." "You've always been a bit of a clothes horse. Didn't one of your first letters home from boarding school contain a complaint about the cut of your uniform?" Howard is happy to change the subject. There's a twinkle of teasing mirth in his eyes. "I bet you have more than one of those robo-suits of yours, each with a flashy paint job. Here, check out my diagnostic scans. I did a full workup on my neural pathways as they're mapped on to the cybernetic brain." Tony Stark hmms, "You..have no idea." he grins, "Once we get you re-established, I'll take you down to MY lab. That's the playground." also all too happy to change the subject. He checks out the readings. "Jesus, Long knew what the hell he was doing when he developed this thing. He makes a few keystrokes, holds up his phone and in seconds, has the data integrated to it. "There's JARVIS' upgrade, right there." he says with a smirk. "Except I can use the virtual workspace to tweak it and advance it a bit." Howard spouts off a long string of techspeak, laden with terms that only people with their level of education and brilliance can parse easily. It roughly translates into, 'here are a few niggling glitches that I was working on before this all happened. Let's get those ironed out before we look at upgrades. And from there, things fade into minutae and tech-speak. Father and son might not be great at heart-to-heart, but they speak the exact same language when it comes to things like this. Even moreso with Tony's years of experience. When he 'died,' after all, Tony had just completed MIT. They never got a chance to connect as intellectual equals. Category:Log